Deception. Carol Ericson
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afraid to move. The air bag has me pinned down, and I don’t want to struggle against it.”
“Good idea.” He hovered over the car and lifted the door handle. “Can you unlock the door?”
“I—I think so.”
He heard a click and let out a pent-up breath.
“Someone must’ve seen you go over. Emergency vehicles are on the way.” The car rocked and a tumble of rocks slid down the side of the cliff.
But would they get here in time?
Dylan eased open the car door. The car tilted back toward him. That was a good sign.
“Unlatch your seat belt, very carefully.”
She shifted against the air bag, and the click from the seat belt sounded like a shot.
“You’re halfway there, Mia.” He shuffled closer to the car, holding his breath as if a puff could send the car hurtling over the cliff.
He tensed his muscles and slid an arm between Mia’s back and the car seat. He curled it around her waist. “Okay, I’m going to pull you out all at once. Don’t hesitate to come to me.”
Dylan braced his foot against the car and pulled Mia toward him, dislodging her from her position wedged behind the air bag.
He staggered backward, dragging her along, until he stumbled and fell to the ground.
Her soft body landed on top of him.
Then a creak ripped through the air and they both looked up in time to see the rental car slide down the cliff. Several seconds later, a crash shook the ground.
A ripple rolled through Mia’s body and Dylan clutched her closer. “It’s okay. I got you.”
Sirens wailed in the distance while black smoke rose from the explosion on the rocks. The smell of gasoline overpowered the salty air.
Mia drew in short puffs of air against his chest, sucking in his khaki shirt with each breath. His hands lingered over her hair and he wanted to smooth his palms over the silky strands, but it felt like taking advantage of her vulnerable condition.
A fire truck wheeled into the turnout, and Mia jerked up her head. Her glassy eyes reflected the revolving red lights. The wail that assaulted their ears seemed to jolt her out of her shock.
She sat upright, straddling Dylan’s hips. He didn’t mind, but she quickly took stock of her position and rolled from his body, staggering to her bare feet. Her shoes must’ve fallen off in the car.
He jumped up next to her. “Are you okay? Did you lose control of the car?”
Shaking her head, she bent over and brushed the dirt and gravel from her flowery skirt. The toes of her bare feet curled into the gritty ground. “The brakes went out on me.”
The firefighters scrambled from the truck and rushed to the edge of the overlook. Then the fire captain, Dave Melendez, peeled away and approached them. He nodded at Dylan. “Hey, Chief. Miss, is that your car?”
“That was my car, or rather the rental company’s car.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m okay. Shaken up.” She waved a hand in Dylan’s direction. “Dyl…Chief Reese came to my rescue.”
The ambulance roared into the overlook and squealed to a stop. Dylan held up both hands to slow them down. Thank God the EMTs wouldn’t be scraping anyone off those rocks down there.
Melendez asked, “Did you see what happened, Chief?”
“No, just the aftereffects. Ms. St. Regis’s car had plowed through the guardrail and was hanging halfway over the cliff with her in it.”
The captain whistled. “You’re lucky you got out of there before it went over.”
“Thanks to the chief.” Mia rubbed her arms. “He pulled me out before it went kaplooey.”
Dylan shrugged out of his windbreaker and draped it over Mia’s shoulders. His arm followed, as she swayed forward and he clamped her body to his.
An EMT, Patrick O’Shea, charged into the group. Dylan knew him, too—one of the more interesting aspects of working in a small town.
“Sit down, Ms. St. Regis. We’ll check you out.”
Mia wrinkled her nose, probably wondering how everyone in town knew her name. “I’m fine. Just a little unsteady.”
“You have an abrasion on your chin. Did the air bag deploy?”
Mia touched her fingertips to her reddened chin. “Yes.”
“You’ll probably have some bruising on your arms, too.” O’Shea jerked his thumb toward the back of the ambulance. “Have a seat and we’ll check out your vitals.”
She took a few shuffling steps away from Dylan, and he placed his hands on her shoulders to guide her to the ambulance. He exerted a little pressure to get her to sit in the back of the ambulance since she still seemed incapable of voluntary movement.
Melendez had returned from his investigation at the edge of the lookout. “They put out the fire. Not much damage from that, but the car’s pretty smashed up.”
Mia struggled against the blood pressure cuff secured around her arm. “My purse! My laptop! My…shoes.”
“Don’t worry about that now, Ms. St. Regis. We’ll salvage what we can, right, Chief?”
“But my laptop. I have…stuff on there.”
Dylan squeezed her knee. “Once they bring up the wreckage, I’ll have a few of my guys sort through it. Not sure your laptop would survive that drop and then the explosion that followed. I hope you have a backup for all those fancy designs you create.”
“Fancy…?” She settled back on the ambulance and let the EMT finish his inventory of her vitals. “Oh, you mean my work.”
What did she mean? Did she have photos of her family on there—husband, children? He’d never bothered to ask…too busy drinking in the sight of her with her gleaming chestnut hair and big brown eyes. She had the looks to be a model herself, but not the height. She barely reached his shoulder.
“Are you about finished with the patient?” Dylan wedged his boot against the tire of the ambulance. “She needs a ride home and a good, hot meal.”
O’Shea looked up from shining a light in Mia’s eyes. “Taking this chief stuff seriously, huh, Reese?”
“I run a full-service department. You ready, Mia?”
Her eyes widened, the dilated pupils making them look even darker. “You’re going to take me back to my motel?”
“Sure. I guess your exploration of the old homestead is going to have to wait until tomorrow.”
“I…I guess so.”
Dylan scratched his chin. “We’ll haul the car to Ted’s Garage. Maybe he can figure out what went wrong. The rental car company’s going to demand that anyway. They’ll probably try to put the blame on you.”
She pushed off the back of the ambulance, steadier on her feet this time. “Let ’em try. I wasn’t even speeding. I started going downhill, pumped the brakes a bit and…nada…they wouldn’t work.”
“You were going downhill?” Coming from town, he thought, she should’ve been going uphill. “I’m glad I was on the road tonight.”
“Me, too.” She dipped her head and scooted off the edge of the ambulance. “Did you call 911, too?”
“No. That call had already gone in by the time I saw your car.” He waved to the fire captain. “Hey, Dave. Do you know who made the 911 call?”